


My most precious gift

by Zwergenmaedchen



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Drunken Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 02:54:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwergenmaedchen/pseuds/Zwergenmaedchen
Summary: James spends Christmas Eve at the Hamilton residence and tries not to feel out of place. When the other guests have left, Thomas has a special present for him.





	My most precious gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt-fill for the Black Sails Winterprompts by ceraunos. The prompt said "I forgot to get you anything" but I've changed it a tiny bit.   
> Hope you enjoy!

The Christmas tree was bigger than any that he'd ever seen in a private home and there were at least two dozen candles softly shining their light on the little glass baubles and ornaments hanging from it's lush green branches. Underneath the tree was a surprisingly small heap of presents but James didn't doubt that the contents of those boxes combined would be worth more than he made in a year as lieutenant.   
Thomas and Miranda were on the other side of the room, talking to one guest or the other and James tried to do his best not to look out of place, holding onto his drink and watching everybody from his corner. He hadn't really moved from it all evening. He'd told Thomas that he'd “be fine. You can't stand around with me all night, people will start to talk” and after a while of trying to argue, Thomas had let himself be guided away by Miranda who'd given James a thankful nod and told him to amuse himself also. Well, he did find it rather amusing watching the fine lords and ladies get more and more drunk as the evening got later and how they became less and less lord- and ladylike with their drink. The few ones that were left at this time of night were dancing now while Thomas sat at the piano and played something James was not familiar with.

“Do you dance, lieutenant?” 

A young woman, maybe 25 years of age, swayed before him. She could hardly keep her eyes focused on his, but her grip on the glass of wine in her right hand seemed to be rather firm.

“I don't, my lady,” he answered not unfriendly.

“Shame.” She leaned in to whisper into his ear: “I have a bet with the Lady Hamilton and she said that you would not dance tonight, but I said surely there must be some argument that would convince you otherwise.” She looked up at him, all fluttering lashes and her hand resting heavily on his elbow as if they were old friends.

“What do you stand to gain if you win this bet with Lady Hamilton?” He leaned back casually, so her hand dropped down to her side.

She didn't even seem to realize and just smiled. 

“Why, my prize, of course, is a dance with you, my dear lieutenant.”

“And if you loose?”

He reached out just in time to prevent her from falling over when she swayed a little too hard to the left. Across the room, Miranda caught his eye and winked at him, raising her glass in salute. He rolled his eyes at her when he was sure nobody else was watching and smiled to himself when she whispered something in her husband's ear and Thomas looked over as well with a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

“If you will not dance with me,” the woman answered, pouting even though she did seem to enjoy being held upright by James, “the Lady will have me sit so she can draw me.”

“That does sound like more of a prize than dancing with an inept sailor like me. I hear the Lady is rather skilled in the arts, is she not?”

“Oh yes, she is, very much so. But it is so tedious sitting for a portrait and not being able to move all that long. I'd much rather dance all the time.”

“I am very sorry, but I really couldn't. After all, it would be terribly rude of me to deprive our hostess of the chance to preserve beauty such as yours.”

“He's right,” Miranda agreed, having come over to stand beside the other woman and taking her arm from James.   
“Come now, Katherine, I think it is time I called you a carriage to take you home.”

“But I wanna dance with the lieutenant here, Miranda!”

“You can barely stand, much less dance,” Miranda laughed and guided the other woman away. 

James shot her a relieved look and drank the last of his wine. He was not drunk, always thoughtful not to become inebriated and careless in the company of his betters even when they did not seem to show any such constraint. They didn't have as hard a fall to fear should they misbehave, he mused. Must be nice to be so free.

His eyes had strayed to Thomas at the piano, his waistcoat long discarded, his fingers gliding over the keys with ease. He'd heard Thomas play before but then his attention had been on Miranda and her clear voice. She wasn't singing now, though, wasn't even in the room. Presumably she was escorting Katherine to her carriage so she would make it home safely. It was only two couples left other than Thomas and him, dancing and laughing with each other. James knew none of them. He allowed himself a moment to admire Thomas and his music. It had a kind of melancholy appeal to it that made some warm thing in the region of James’ heart swell and he swallowed to keep it from rising out of his heart into his mouth. He felt like he might want to burst out in song, to give words to the ache inside him and be understood. 

James shook his head at himself and placed the wine glass delicately on a side table. Maybe he'd had more than he'd realized. With a start he noticed that Thomas had stopped playing and the other guests were starting to leave. Hurrying over to the door, he made to say goodbye to Miranda, but Thomas stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, lieutenant McGraw,” he said, “I am terribly sorry, but I must insist on keeping you just a while longer. I'm sure you can forgive me for forgetting over these diversions, but I have been meaning to show you a new outline for our plan that I have devised this morning. It won't take long.” He winked at James who just nodded briefly to indicate his assent and bid the other guests goodbye even though they hardly seemed to notice.

When Miranda had sent the servants to bed and said good night herself, Thomas wrapped his arms around James and rested his cheek on James’ forehead, sighing contently in relief.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

“I was here all day.”

“Ah, yes, but it is not the same thing, is it? When we have to hide? When I cannot take your hand or even talk to you freely?”

“No, it is not,” James agreed before he was kissed into silence, one hand tugging off the band in his hair and the other still holding him close. 

He sighed and nuzzled into Thomas’ shoulder so he could kiss up his jawline and behind his ear. He nipped at Thomas’ earlobe, prompting a soft gasp and a tightening hand in his hair from the other man.

“I'm sorry,” Thomas whispered and resumed combing his fingers through James’ hair.

“Don't be.” He smiled up at Thomas with one eyebrow raised. His lord smiled back and brushed his hand over James’ cheek. The touch of his soft and elegant fingers sent shivers down James’ spine and his next words brought back that unfamiliar heat in his heart, that made him feel smaller even and like he might burst at the edges with - want? Or happiness?

“Good God, James, you are so beautiful. Look at you.” 

He arranged James’ hair so that it lay on his shoulders, framing his face in ginger locks. 

“Am I the only one who gets to see you like this? Or do you let your hair down sometimes at sea, so it may fly freely in the winds?”

“So to make myself blind with every turn of the wind? I couldn't bear it,” he answered with an open smile. Laughing made it easier. Easier to bear Thomas’ compliments when he knew he didn't deserve them. Easier to hold the lord's steady gaze. Easier to stand unter Thomas’ singularly focused attention and not crumble beneath it. 

“What about Miranda? Or your other lovers?”

“None have ever been quite as fascinated with my hair as you seem to be. Are you certain you have not maybe had a glass of wine too much? Should you go to bed?”

“Since you are already offering, you should definitely take me to bed, James.”

“I meant to sleep, Thomas.”

“I know. That does not have to be what I meant, though, does it? But I am certain. I am quite sober. And I do have something that I would like to give to you. Wait a second, please.” 

Thomas turned around and stepped towards the Christmas tree, taking a package from under it, wrapped in blue paper and tied with a golden bow.

“Merry Christmas, James,” he said and held the present out for James to take.

James could feel the heat creeping up his cheeks and down his neck, knowing he must look like a Christmas bauble himself with the glowing red of embarrassment shining on his skin.

“I didn't think you'd,” he started, then with his eyes to the floor continued “I haven't gotten anything for you.”

“Yet here you are. My most precious gift. James, my dearest, I do not expect anything of you and yet you give me so much.”

James’ head snapped up at that, an astonished look on his face. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just take it, please, James.” 

Thomas appeared more nervous than usual, twisting his wedding band around his finger as James carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a thick leather-bound book. On the cover there was the symbol of a sun embossed and he traced it reverently with his hand.

“Thank you, Thomas. I don't know what to say. This is too much, I couldn't possibly -”

“Open it,” Thomas cut him off breathlessly. 

He opened the book to the first side and there, in a handwriting that had become nigh on as familiar to him as his own, stood:

“James,   
my truest love. Know no shame.   
T.H.”

“Thomas,” he gasped, unable to tear his gaze away from the neat cursive. Love. He couldn't think, his breath caught in his throat and had he been able to speak at all, he wouldn't have known what to say. Love. Was that what was happening to him? Was love the terrifying conclusion to the puzzle of his emotions? 

“James?” 

Thomas' whisper interrupted his thoughts. He looked up, helpless and confused. Thomas' eyes softened when they met his and he took the book from James’ hands to brush his thumbs over them in slow circles.

“Please forgive me, James. I did not mean to overwhelm you. But I am a terrible romantic, you must have realized.”

His smile - sincere but unsure - and his searching gaze loosened James’ tongue finally.

“No, no you are not. This is. Thank you so much, Thomas.”

He leaned into the other man and pressed their mouths together with his arms around Thomas’ neck. He could feel Thomas smile into the kiss and let his tongue slip between his lips. 

Thomas immediately opened his mouth further, inviting James in. He followed the invitation, their tongues touching, tasting each other, drinking each other in like they had spend the evening in a desert instead of a Christmas party at the Hamilton residence which was known to be an everflowing well of entertainment and drink alike. James felt as though he had not had either of those at all this night. Could he even get drunk on wine anymore? Thomas’ kisses were the most intoxicating liquor he'd ever tasted. And what form of entertainment could truly hold his attention when he was not allowed to look at Thomas openly, watching him, learning him? No, he decided, he had truly been dying of thirst and Thomas was the only one who could revive him.

“I love you, too,” he whispered.


End file.
